Aundy (Pendleton Petticoats #1)(16)
Author: Shanna Hatfield

Wrapping her chest tightly, so it looked as flat as possible, Aundy pulled on a thick, coarse man’s undershirt. Over her own bloomers, she tugged on a pair of pants that belonged to Erik’s father. Erik must have gotten his height from his mother’s side of the family, because his father’s pants were just the right length for Aundy. Once she had the boots on, they might even be a little short.

Putting on a thick pair of socks, she pulled on the boots and tugged the pants down over the tops. Buttoning a cotton work shirt, she stuffed the hem into the waistband of the pants. The blue and white striped shirt reminded her of hundreds just like it she’d sewn at the factory. Fastening on suspenders, she gave them a playful snap, grinning to herself as she settled them in place.

Putting on a dark blue vest, she buttoned it and glanced in the mirror. The transformation was taking shape, but she’d have to do something about her hair. Unpinning it, she combed it back from her forehead and wove it into a tight braid. Catching the end, she began stuffing it back up under itself and pinned it into place. Tying a black cloth over her head, she secured the ends in back and tucked them into the neck of the shirt. She hoped no one would notice it once she had the hat in place.

Going to the bathroom, she looked in the small mirror above the sink and carefully rubbed ashes into the skin along her jaw and chin, turning it a shade of gray. From a distance, in muted light, it might pass for a day’s growth of beard.

Deciding her lips were far too rosy, Aundy used a little flour to make them look pale and dry, then reminded herself to not lick them.

Stepping back in her room, she put money in her vest pocket and a piece of paper with a pencil stub in her coat pocket. Slipping on the coat, she tugged the hat down on her head and stood in front of the mirror, eyeing herself critically.

With her tall height and build, she might just get away with pretending to be a man. Practicing a swaggering walk a few times, she giggled at herself then took a deep breath. She could do this and she would.

Walking to the front door, she stopped and turned back to unlock the desk drawer where she kept Erik’s revolver. Taking it out of the drawer, she retrieved the holster and gun belt from Erik’s room and fastened it around her hips, like she’d seen men wear them. Feeling like her gait would be lopsided from the extra weight on her hip, she walked a few circles around the front room then remembered she needed a pair of leather gloves. Hurrying into the kitchen, she put on a pair she’d used in the garden, thinking the soiled fingers would look like a man might have used them for hard labor.

Ready to leave, she remembered the Bay Rum in the bathroom and removed the gloves, splashing a little of the scent onto her hands, rubbing it on her neck and wiping her still damp fingers down the front of her shirt and pants. Jamming her fingers in the gloves, she decided she had to go before she came to her senses and changed her mind.

Running out the front door and down the porch steps, she felt quiet free and unhampered without her petticoats and skirts. Mounting Bell with ease, she thought she could quickly become accustomed to wearing pants.

Urging Bell into a fast canter down the lane before someone caught sight of her, she hurried the horse toward town.

Trying to decide which saloon would grant the fastest access to the Underground, she entered one she’d heard the hands talk about when they thought she wasn’t listening.

Tying Bell to a hitching post around the corner, she swaggered down the boardwalk and in the swinging doors of a busy saloon. The stench of booze and cigar smoke made her want to cough while she fought to keep her eyes from watering. Pulling the brim of her hat down slightly and turning up the collar of her coat, she walked up to the bar and leaned one elbow on it, looking around.

“Help you, mister?” asked a middle-aged man who seemed rather bookish for a bartender.

“Maybe,” Aundy said in a voice as deep and raspy as she could make it. “Have some business to do Underground.”

“Is that so?” the bartender asked, continuing his efforts at polishing a glass while he spoke.

Aundy nodded her head.

“What makes you think we know anything about the Underground?” the bartender asked, setting down the shiny glass and picking up another to polish.

“Heard you were the best saloon in town. Figured you’d have other enterprises, beyond the saloon here,” Aundy said, keeping her head down, pretending to study the worn finger of her glove. At least she wasn’t lying. She had heard, via her hands, that this saloon was their favorite.

The bartender laughed. “Right you are. Go through that door and down the hall. Last door on the left will take you where you want to go.”

“Much obliged,” Aundy said, taking a coin from her vest pocket and laying it on the bar.

The bartender nodded his head at her and grinned.

Aundy went through the doorway he indicated and found herself in a dark hall. The muffled sounds she could hear made her want to cover her ears and sing a hymn so she walked quickly to the end of the doors, turning the knob on the last one to her left. It opened to reveal a dark staircase.

Easing her way down the stairs, Aundy came to another door and opened it to find a narrow corridor. Following it, she could smell strange scents and hear the rumble of a crowd. Reaching the end of the hallway, she straightened her vest, tightened the string under her chin holding the hat firmly in place, and opened the door.

She found herself looking at what appeared to be a small underground city. She could see a saloon, a sign for a bathhouse, and a Chinese laundry. Walking into the crowd, she ambled along, stunned to see so many people wandering around below the city. Trying to blend in, she listened to several conversations, but didn’t pick up any good leads that would help satisfy her mission.

Following a group of men into a saloon, she found an empty place on the end of a long bar and ordered a sarsaparilla. The bartender gave her an odd look, but didn’t ask any questions when she handed him a coin and nodded her head in thanks. She did not intend to drink anything, but thought people would pay less attention to her if she looked like she was nursing a drink.

Casting a glance around the room without raising her head, she took in a group of men sitting at a nearby table who were dusty and a little disheveled, but seemed to be having a good time. Turning their direction, she listened to their conversation as they played cards. Caught up in the tales of ranching and life on the trail, she didn’t notice the saloon girl sidle up next to her until she felt someone squeeze her arm.

“Hey, sugar, ain’t seen you round here afore,” the girl said, leaning to press herself against Aundy’s side. “You’re a little shy, aren’t you?”

Aundy thought she might die right there of embarrassment. Raising her head just enough to take in the girl’s face, she was surprised to see someone who was extremely young. If she scrubbed off the makeup and dressed in respectable clothes, the girl would probably be quite pretty. Guessing her to be around sixteen, Aundy thought the girl’s eyes held a haunted look, the gaze of one who had lost all innocence.

Appearing tawdry and gauche, the girl was excessively friendly for Aundy’s liking.

“Not interested,” Aundy said, staring down at her feet. “Please move along, miss.”

“Everyone’s interested, at least all men are,” the girl said, taking a step back and studying Aundy speculatively. The way she was grinning, Aundy began to wonder if the girl figured out she wasn’t a man.

“My name’s Marnie. And you are?”

“Looking for information,” Aundy said quietly, working to keep her voice low and raspy.

“What kind of information?” Marnie asked, leaning against the bar and twirling a gaudy fan by a silk cord she had wrapped around her wrist.

“Buying sheep,” Aundy said, remembering not to lick her lips or press them together.

“Sheep, is it? Well, you probably ought to talk to Mr. O’Connell over there in the corner. He has a bunch he’s been trying to sell so he can move on to greener pastures. Says he wants to head to California where they don’t get snow and cold winters like we have here,” Marnie said, pointing to a man sitting at a table in the corner by himself. “He’s a nice man, even when he’s drunk, and always gentle around women, at least to those who dress the part.”

Aundy tried not to let her shock at that comment show on her face as she tipped her head to Marnie and touched the brim of her hat in thanks, like she’d watched men do all her life, and walked across the room.

“Mr. O’Connell?” she asked, standing beside his table. He looked up at her with a glazed expression. It was then Aundy noticed an empty whiskey bottle on the table. Repressing the sigh that inched up from her chest, she sat down when he pointed to a chair.

“Heard you have sheep for sale. I might know someone who’d be interested in buying.”

“Oh, might ya now?” Mr. O’Connell said with an Irish lilt that made his words seem musical. “Faith, I’ve been a’ tryin’ to get rid of me woolies for months long past and had no takers. I was sittin’ here tonight, ready to drown me sorrows and there ya’ be. Giving me hope, at last.”

Aundy asked questions about the type of sheep, the size of the herd, how much he wanted for the animals, if he was willing to deliver. When she was satisfied with the information, she took out her pencil and piece of paper and wrote down her name, instructing Mr. O’Connell to give Mrs. Erickson a call Monday morning or to stop by her farm to discuss the details. In turn, Aundy wrote down his last name and the approximate location of his farm, in case the half-drunk man lost the piece of paper before he got in touch with her.

“Thank you for your time,” Aundy said, getting up from the table, more than ready to make an escape.

“Ya’ can’t up and leave yet. A drink must be shared at the prospect of selling me flock of sheep,” Mr. O’Connell said, holding up his empty shot glass. “Marnie, me love, bring another bottle.”

Aundy realized things could go quite badly from there, but knew a man would stay and take a drink to seal the deal.

Marnie brought over a bottle and another glass, setting it in front of Aundy. Giving her a wink, Marnie poured whiskey into each glass, then stood back, eyeing Aundy. Fairly certain the girl had seen through her disguise, Aundy hoped she wouldn’t give her away.

“To a future without woolies,” Mr. O’Connell said, holding his glass up before downing the contents in one quick swallow.

“To the future,” Aundy said, holding her glass up and pretending to take a sip. There was no way that devil’s poison, as she’d heard her mother call it, was touching her lips let alone sliding down her throat. She could almost feel the fire burning in her stomach from the smell alone.

“Ya hardly took a sip,” Mr. O’Connell pointed out.

“Trying to cut back,” Aundy said, reaching out her gloved hand to the man across the table. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, lad. Thank you for giving me Mrs. Erickson’s name.”

Nodding her head in what she hoped was a masculine gesture, Aundy turned to leave and ran right into Ashton Monroe.

“Watch where you’re going,” Ashton grumbled giving Aundy a hard shove that sent her stumbling into an empty table. Keeping herself from falling by sheer determination, she mumbled an apology without raising her gaze.

Giving him a quick glance, she was shocked to see Ashton rumpled and grumpy. Always dressed immaculately with impeccable manners, he appeared quite disheveled. Glaring at her, his suit was wrinkled and flecked with dark stains, he wore no hat, and it looked as though he’d run his hands through his hair numerous times since it stood on end.

She started to walk past him out the door, but he grabbed her shoulder and held on.

“If you’d learn to walk with your head up instead of shuffling along looking at your feet, you might not go around bumping into people,” Ashton said, giving her a violent shake before turning her loose.

Feeling anger boiling inside her, Aundy wanted more than anything at that moment to kick Ashton in the shin and slap his pretty face. What a pompous brute! Instead, she kept her head down, nodding it in agreement to his words.

“Yes, sir,” she said, once again attempting to leave.

“Say, haven’t I seen you around somewhere?” Ashton said, reaching out to grab the hat from her head. Aundy ducked at the same moment Marnie latched onto Ashton’s arm, pulling his attention her direction.

“Ashton, honey, you come on over here and tell me where you’ve been the last week. I haven’t seen you for days and days and it looks like you rode into town on a twister,” Marnie said, sending Aundy another wink as Ashton followed her to the bar.

Mouthing “thank you” to the girl, Aundy hurried back out into the throng of people milling about and tried to figure out a way back up to street level. Deciding she probably wasn’t going to be able to leave the same way she came in, she followed a couple of men who appeared to be going somewhere.

When they turned and entered an establishment Aundy refused to acknowledge even existed, she kept walking. The din of the crowd was fading and she followed a tunnel around a corner, thrilled to see a doorway up ahead.

Cautiously turning the knob, she let out the breath she was holding as her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she saw a staircase. Racing upward, she tripped over something on the top step and crashed into a solid door.

“Gracious,” she whispered, thinking she’d have a bruise on her shoulder for certain. If Ashton’s vice-like grip hadn’t done it, her fall into the door would.

Looking down, she was shocked to discover the object she tripped over was a man. Unable to see more than an outline of shape in the darkness, she prayed the door would open outside somewhere and gave the knob a twist.

Fresh air blew across her face and she glanced around, realizing the door opened into a narrow alley.